


Perhaps This Isn't So Bad

by CreamyXD



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Injury, M/M, POV First Person, hurt!Numbers, some chasing happens, sorry Numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamyXD/pseuds/CreamyXD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numbers has broken a leg during a hit. Now it's up to Wrench to care for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps This Isn't So Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [periken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/periken/gifts).



> Written in first person. 
> 
> \----
> 
> This is my first work for the Wrenchers fandom. I wrote this on a request from my brother. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Please give me feedback if you can.

**Number's POV**

I dash up the steps of the old apartment complex, taking two at a time as I chase after the target. I hate this place. The building is falling apart and rotting away. There's paint peeling form the walls and ceiling while rust covers the hand rails. Rats swarm the tiny crevices all across the building, leaving their droppings everywhere. The whole complex smells musty, making me even more uncomfortable. I should have just stayed in the car. I'm careful not to touch anything as I run up the steps. Who knows what kind of germs are here. I could get infected.

Once I'm up the last flight of stairs I see the target dart out the door that leads onto the roof. I run after him, my shoes crunching in the light snow that covers the area. When I know I'm close enough, I tackle the man to the ground. I can feel the wetness from the snow seep into my clothes as my body makes contact. I shiver at the feeling before quickly turning my attention back to the target. I hoist him up, making sure his arms are pinned behind his back. I can hear my partner, Wrench, coming up behind me. I turn to him, giving him a look that said,  _what took you so long?_

He shrugs,  _you seemed to have it under control_ , he signs.

I frown at him as he gives me that grin that always seems to be able to make me melt inside. He knows I can't stay mad at him when he does that. At my momentary distraction the man in my arms manages to wriggle out of my grip. Once his arms are free he immediately body checks me with his shoulder. 

I stumble back from the sudden force. I hadn't realized how close I am to the edge until my heel hit the small ledge at the end of the building. I fall backwards. I see the world tilt upwards as I tumble off the building. I can see Wrench at the edge, reaching a hand down in a desperate attempt to grab me only to fail. I feel panic rise up inside me. I flail around, trying to find a way to angle my body in a way that would lessen the damage. I look down and see the concrete moving closer and closer to me with each passing second. The next moment I feel a spike a of pain shoot through my whole body. I hear an audible crack from something snapping before my vision goes black.

\-----

**Wrench's POV**

I watch the target unravel himself from Numbers arms and pushes him backwards with his shoulder. I hide a small snicker at the astounded look on his face when the man, who is much smaller then him, manages to escape his grip. My laughter soon dies down when I see my partner stumbling back towards the edge of the building. Fear begins to manifest, pulsing through my system instead of the usual adrenaline rush from a hunt. I see his heel hit the ledge, causing him to fall backwards off the building. I rush over to him. I lean out over the edge as far as I can and stretch an arm down. I try to grab at him only to grasp uselessly at air. I want to call out to him but I know I can't. All I can do is watch as he falls from a three story tall apartment complex down onto the pavement below. I stare in horror at his crumpled form below. I can't see him move. His body is completely still. A flurry of panic swells up inside me. Numbers can't be dead. He can't be. He fell from three floors. He's fallen from higher and survived. He could just be unconscious.  

After the initial wave of panic leaves, uncontrolled rage begins to pulse through my veins. Rage towards the man who dared to hurt my partner. I spin around. I see the target dashing across the snow covered roof, heading for the fire escape on the opposite end. I pull out my pistol from its holster at my side, feeling a slight reassurance at its familiar weight. A small part of my brain reminds me that Fargo has ordered for the man to be captured unharmed. Well then, fuck Fargo. I lift the gun up and aim. I point the barrel at the mans leg as he rushes away in a panic. I see him glance over his shoulder once or twice, his eyes widening in terror at the gun pointed at him. He picks up his pace, stumbling over his feet once or twice as he madly scrambles towards his escape. I switch off the safety with a flick of my thumb. I start to ease back on the trigger.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

I feel the recoil from the gun jolt my hands back, a bright flash at the barrel as the shot is fired. I watch the man fall, he opens his mouth in an inaudible cry. He slumps into the snow, his hands gripping at the wound on his leg.

I stalk closer to the man. The crimson of blood begins to dye the snow around his leg. He gazes at me in horror and seems to say something. Judging by his expression I'm guessing he's pleading for his life. I grab the man and throw him over my shoulder, still crying out in pain. I haul him out of the building and to the old car parked outside. I duct tape his mouth shut and tie his hands behind his back before tossing him in the trunk and slamming it shut. I let the anger drop from my face. I turn and rush to the side of the building and into the alley way in which Numbers had landed. I round the corner to find him lying in the snow. His leg is twisted at an odd angle and there's a small ring of blood around his head. I approach slowly and hesitantly, afraid of what I will feel when I check his pulse. I place two tentative fingers at his neck. There's a steady beat. Hope swells up with each jump of his heart against my finger tips. He's alive and there doesn't seem to be any serious damage now that I examine him more.

I quickly bundle him into my arms and carry him to the old Buick. I lie him down gently in the back seats of the vehicle, ensuring he's comfortable before shutting the door. I climb into the drivers seat and head back to our apartment, driving as fast as I can.

\-----

**Number's POV**

I wake to the feeling of my whole body aching. My head throbs uncontrollably causing my vision to swim slightly. Where am I? What happened? Is Wrench alright? As these questions float around in my head I hear the sound of someones soft breathing beside me. I immediately tense. With my eyes still shut my hand reaches down to grab at the gun I keep at my side only to find it missing. Fuck. I carefully open one eye as to not draw suspicion to whoever is beside me. I instantly let out a breath of relief when I see the person curled up at the foot of the bed. It's none other then Wrench.

He's sitting on a stool that looks much too small for him. His head rests against his arms which are crossed on the bed. His whole body leans against the edge causing it to dip slightly in his direction. I blush a little as I gaze at his sleeping profile. I love the way his hair is tousled on his head. How he still wears his, now rumpled, fringe jacket from the previous day as if changing into more comfortable clothes didn't even cross his mind.

I try to sit up, lean forward to caress his cheek only to freeze when my torso flares up in pain. Did I break a rib? As I try to rack my brain for any memory of how this could have happened I see Wrench staring at me with his eyes wide open. Heat begins to rise up in my cheeks, turning my face bright red. I lurch back quickly before realizing my mistake. A stab of pain shoots through my abdomen again in protest at the sudden movement. I try to hide a wince only to fail miserably. Wrench gives a small snicker, a look of amusement on his face.

 _What were you trying to do?_ He signs.

 _Nothing,_  I sign back.

_You were watching me sleep._

_No, I wasn't._

_Yes, you were. Don't deny it._  A cheeky grin appears on his face.

The blush grows brighter.  _Fuck off._

I can see him hide a snicker before he leans closer and gives me a peck on the cheek. His smile drops slightly when he leans away. He glances up at my head.  _How are you feeling?_

_Like shit. What the hell happened?_

_You fell off the roof and hit your head and-_

_Well that explains the headache._ I lift a hand up onto my head. I can feel a bandage wrapped around my temple.  _What happened to the target?_

_I shot him._

_You shot him?! Are you crazy?! We needed him alive!_

_I shot him in the leg._

_Where is he now?_

_In the trunk._

I sigh. Well at least we still have him.  _Come on lets go deliver him to Fargo._

I throw off the blanket and begin to climb out of bed, wincing slightly from the pain in my ribs, only to have Wrench push me back. He shakes his head. _I'm fine Wrench. You don't have to worry so much._ I sign to him as I push past. I place my feet on the ground and try to stand. My foot immediately buckles under my weight. I fall face first onto the ground, smashing my nose onto the, unfortunately, hardwood floor.

Wrench shakes his head and sighs in exasperation. _I was trying to warn you. You broke your leg and a few ribs as well. You should have seen how twisted your leg was._

I scowl _. I'm fine. I can walk._ I try to pull myself back onto my feet, with one hand as support on the night stand, only to have my foot crumble under the weight again.

 _Numbers, you are staying in bed. You need to rest for at least two months before it heals completely._  Wrench picks me up into his arms easily, much to my displeasure, and drops me back onto the bed. I hate how he is able to pick me up like a sack of dirt. 

 _But I'm useless like this! I can't do anything! I can't live like this for over two months._ I throw my arms up with irritation.

Wrench shrugs. _You can still shoot a gun._

I roll my eyes at him.  _Yes, I'm going to shoot all our targets from our bed._

_Just shut up and rest._

I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance, mumbling curses to myself and to my useless leg.

\-----

I've been lying in bed for two hours and I'm going crazy. There's nothing to do. I can't go anywhere to take pictures. I can't focus long enough to play guitar with this fucking headache. I can't do anything bed ridden like this! In the middle of my self-loathing, Wrench enters our room a few minutes later.

 _Are you hungry?_  He signs.

 _No._  I sign back only to have my stomach rumble in defiance.

Wrench hides a chuckle.  _What do you want to eat?_

 _I can make it myself._  I start to get up only to, once again, be pushed down by Wrench.

_Man, you're stubborn. You can't even stand upright for one second. I'd rather you didn't sear your face off from falling on the stove. You'll burn off your beard._

I make a face of mock surprise.  _You care about my beard more then me?_   

 _It's what I like about you most. You lose the beard and you lose me._ He teases.

I furrow my brows. _Fine. No cooking._

Wrench grins in victory.  _So what do you want to eat?_

_Take out will be fine._

_But I want to cook you something._

_If you cook then I'll be eating cereal for dinner._

He puts on a pout.  _I know how to cook more then cereal._

I snort.  _Like what?_

Wrench thinks for a moment but comes up with nothing. I smile victoriously.  _Just get me a bag of Scrunyuns. I'll eat those._

_You can't eat Scrunyuns for dinner. That's worse than cereal._

I glare at him. _Just watch me._

Wrench glares back.  _Then I'll throw away all your Scrunyuns._

_You wouldn't fucking dare._

Wrench raises an eyebrow. A playful smirk graces his expression. He leaves the room and comes back with a full bag. The jumbo bag too. He turns it over so the opening is facing the ground. The filthy, filthy, ground.

 _Wrench don't!_ His grin widens as he starts to pull open the bag.  _Alright! You win! You can cook something for me._

He smiles and happily heads back into the kitchen. I flip him off as he leaves. He seems to catch it from the corner of his eye and gives me the finger as well. I lie back down on the bed and wait. My brows furrow in irritation.

He appears again later with a piping hot bowl of soup. Steam curls up from the bowl, sending a savory aroma into the air. I gaze at it wearily when he hands it to me. I take a whiff. Chicken noodle soup. The canned kind. It looks good at least. I take a tentative spoonful into my mouth. Wrench waits with anticipation on the side. A hopeful expression on his face. The soups not bad but it's not great either. A little too much salt.

 _It's good. A little salty, but still good for a first timer._  I sign to him.

His face lights up happily, and there it is again. That smile that always makes my foul mood wash away. When I finish with the soup I hand the bowl over to him to wash. He takes it and disappears once again into the kitchen.

I yawn and lie down to attempt to get some sleep. I'm about to doze off when I hear the door open and then there's someone climbing into the bed with me. Their arms snake around my waist. I turn to find none other then Wrench. He nuzzles his face into my neck and gives me a kiss on the lips.

 _You taste like chicken noodle soup,_ he signs.

I blush again and turn my face around to hide my expression. He chuckles behind me and rests his chin against the crook of my neck. I realize now that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. How I can feel it warm my back. I snuggle further into his chest and shut my eyes. Being stuck in bed like this for two months might not be so bad after all.


End file.
